Jyoti used to live in Gagodhar, a small village in the Ujjain district of Madhya Pradesh. In her village, as soon as girls hit puberty, the elders start searching for grooms and arranging marriages. She was married to Ram at the age of 16. For the wedding, her in-laws borrowed and spent about 5 lakhs, and just two days after the wedding, the couple were told to start repaying the debt.
Jyoti and Ram migrated to Bhuj, Kutch in Gujarat, because her relatives mentioned there was work available almost every day. They believed expenses would be lower compared to big cities like Ahmedabad. The couple built a makeshift shelter on the outskirts of Bhuj at Khasara ground, but housing structures and sanitation facilities are inadequate. Their temporary shelter has a corner for cooking, with the rest of the space used for sleeping. For men, migration destinations are somewhat familiar because they see others moving to specific places. However, for women, the experience is different—it starts with moving to the in-laws’ house and then to a strange city.
On a typical day, Jyoti wakes up at 4 am., cooks food for herself and her husband, and then they both go to Nakka (Jubilee Circle) to find work. They reach there by 8:30am, where a contractor hires them as a pair for work, paying 1000 rupees for both. However, when paid individually, women receive 350 rupees, while men get 500 rupees for the same unskilled construction work. Jyoti mentioned that single women rarely get work at Nakka because they are not considered trustworthy.
This made me reflect on how a woman’s value or pay is only recognized when accompanied by a male counterpart. Under the ‘jodi-based’ system, women workers are invisible as individuals. Husbands and wives are hired as a couple, and men receive the wages for both. Women often don’t even know how much their wages are. Capitalist patriarchal systems drive gender norms that devalue women’s labor rights from recruitment to payout. The value assigned to women’s work in construction is also affected by these norms.
While conducting research with my former organization, I asked Ram where he would prefer to live if given a choice. While he preferred his village because his brothers’ families were there, and they had pakka (permanent) houses, and basic facilities, when I asked Jyoti the same question, she surprised me by saying Bhuj. I wondered why she would choose a makeshift house (locally known as bhunga) with no proper facilities. When I asked her why, she said, “Yaha par kursi par baithne ko milta hai” (Here, I can sit on a chair).
She explained that in her village, women are not allowed to sit on chairs; they sit on the ground while men sit on chairs. In Bhuj, there are no such restrictions. Jyoti also listed other advantages, that she can go out to buy vegetables, and wear a salwar kameez.
During our conversations, many women shared that they feel a sense of belonging and more freedom when surrounded by familiar faces from their community, village, town, or state, even while maintaining some social norms or Maryada. They experienced more freedom at the migration destination, including the ability to work and earn money with their partners. Although they still faced patriarchal constraints, they had a greater say in decisions compared to their villages.
The living conditions of migrant women in Bhuj are marked by wage disparities, discrimination against single women, alcoholism, domestic violence, and poor sanitation. Despite these challenges, numerous women expressed experiencing economic improvements after migrating. They reported a reduction in financial stress, as they were able to earn and repay debts back home. Some even mentioned purchasing a small piece of land and constructing sturdy houses. Furthermore, some women mentioned significant changes in their lifestyles. They noticed improvements in their speaking, dressing, and learned how to make the best out of waste. They highlighted experiencing greater freedom here compared to their villages, where they were restricted by rigid societal norms.
Migration is not a new phenomenon, but listening to Jyoti’s story raises the question of why Bhuj sees such high migration inflows. Bhuj is often associated with the devastating 2001 earthquake, which struck on India’s Republic Day with a moment magnitude of 7.7 (equivalent to 6.9 on the Richter scale). It was felt across northwestern India and parts of Pakistan. The earthquake claimed over 20,000 lives, injured more than 150,000 people, and made hundreds of thousands homeless. The agricultural sector suffered greatly, and even a year later, many people were still living in temporary shelters. To rebuild the area, there was a high demand for labor, leading to migration from different parts of India, including Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh, and Gujarat’s southern tribal belt.
These demographic shifts give rise to various local phenomena. For example, men on bikes come to the communities to sell 50 rupee alcohol packets to migrants. This has led to a high rate of domestic abuse. Women face a dual burden of work and domestic violence. With no sanitation facilities, women go in the open before sunrise and after sunset, affecting their health. However, they have no choice as the land they live on is owned by big builders, or the government. Gujarat has banned alcohol sales since the 1960s, but illegal sales are prevalent, especially in migrant cluster areas where alcohol is sold discreetly.
Nevertheless, the sense of freedom and dignity experienced by migrant women, as compared to the village, is so profound that they are willing to forego basic facilities and endure a standard of living below par.
Migration is often viewed through a singular lens, focusing on men’s experiences, despite women being equally involved. There is limited literature on what migration means to women. For women, Marriage is also a form of internal migration in India, with women making up the majority of migrants, often distressed and not a choice. In Jyoti’s case, mobility provided her with a sense of freedom that was often restricted to women, whether in cities or villages.
Wherever women go, from east to west, south to north, the struggle for women’s dignity persists, entangled in the web of patriarchal society. Yet, in every basti, in every workplace, small steps are being taken—acts of resistance, voices rising against the system.
